


All Roads Lead to Rome

by Colette_Capricious



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, first time in a long time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colette_Capricious/pseuds/Colette_Capricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do the boys get it on? You know they do. This time, though, you get to decide where and how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Push it to the up and right

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a some magical time post-Soulless!Sam when everything is good with the boys. Just pretend it could happen. Ignore any geographical errors. My word, my rules.

The Impala hums and the road rolls out underneath her wheels. Some Gordon Lightfoot on the radio and Sammy nodding off in the passenger’s seat. They’d cleaned up last night at a college bar with four full-sized pool tables and a couple of dart boards, so they have money to burn. 

A perfect night.

Dean drums his fingers against the door, reveling in the caress of the air. It's that perfect summer evening temperature and he scent of eucalyptus is carried on the breeze as they drive past the silver-barked trees lining the road like a fairytale grove.

Sam shifts against the seat, knees pushing into the dashboard as he tries to fit into the too-small space. “Hungry,” he murmurs without opening his eyes.

Dean reaches over and grabs his kneecap, shaking his leg back and forth affectionately. “Told you to eat more than a salad at lunch. Man needs real food to keep going.”

“Hungry,” Sam repeats with a touch of a whine. He slumps over so his head rests on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean laughs. “Fine. Fine. Next place I find. We’re kind of in the middle of the woods here.” He ruffles Sam’s hair with his free hand. It’s soft and Dean barely resists burying his nose in it.

Sam opens one eye and squints out the front window. “Huh. So we are.”

He closes his eyes again. Dean expects him to slide back over the door, but he stays with his head against Dean’s chest. Dean gently combs his fingers through Sam’s hair. Sam makes a sound deep in his chest that would be a purr if he was a cat.

There’s a tightness in Dean’s chest and he barely dares to breathe. Sam’s been so...touchy lately. Brushing against him when they walk, pressing their legs together under diner and bar tables, pressing up behind him in motel bathrooms when they’re brushing their teeth. It’s not like he has to, he could wait, but he just doesn’t.

And it’s making Dean think about things he hasn’t thought about since Sam left for college. Well, technically that’s not true. He’s _thought_ about them. He’d never stopped thinking about what had almost happened between them. But, well, he never expected to ever be in that space again. Not after everything. 

They really hadn’t done much back then. Some frantic kissing, a few rushed handjobs. Dean’s guilt and Sam’s anger had kept them apart as much as their love and desire pulled them together. But now, years and years later, it seems like, maybe. Maybe Sam hasn’t forgotten either.

A sign up ahead lets him know there's some food at this exit. The next town is about 50 miles away. If they push through, they could stop for the night. Stop and get a room, get some dinner. Then again, they are still hugging the coast. Maybe it would be nice to pick up some food and swing over to the bluffs. Sam snores lightly against Dean’s chest. No help there.

**What should Dean do? Stop and get food and go to the bluffs or push on through to the next town?**

_To stop at the next exit,[Go to Chapter Two](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4409628)_

_To drive on to the next town,[Go to Chapter Three](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4409658)_


	2. Dinner on the bluff

Dean slows down and takes the exit. Sam starts to wake, the shift in speed and the changing sound of the hum of the tires triggering responses decades in the making. He pulls away from Dean’s shoulder, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. 

“Food?” he asks, hopefully.

“Yeah, food.” Dean laughs as Sam blinks and tries to figure out where they are. “Dude, you were seriously asleep. You better not have drooled on me.”

“You don’t deserve my drool.” Sam stretches, deliberately hitting Dean in the side of the head as he does.

Dean swats at him in retaliation and turns into the parking lot of an upscale grocery store-slash-rest stop. The engine clicks and sighs as they stop.

The air is fresh and cool when they stumble out of the car. They’ve been staying on Route 1 almost the whole way and Dean can smell the Pacific Ocean off in the distance. The place is almost empty this late in the day. They make a few passes past the deli counter and premade salads, holding items up for each other to say yay or nay to. Dean pays while Sam uses the restroom. They end up with some thick sandwiches, potato salad, a six pack of locally-brewed beer and, best of all to Dean's mind, some individual-sized pies that were two-for-one.

He’s leaning against the Impala when Sam comes out. “What took you so long, Princess? Fixin’ your make up?”

Sam gives Dean the expected bitch-face, but takes the beer Dean offers. “Not bad,” he offers after a long sip. “So, eat in the car?”

Dean shakes his head as he swallows. “Nah. Guy inside said there’s a place to eat down this path a bit. Nice view of the ocean. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds great.”

The spot is as nice as the guy inside had promised. Hell, the whole road trip has been one vista after another. California might always leave a bad taste in Dean’s mouth but even he has to admit it's gorgeous.

There's a green metal picnic table in the clearing. Sam perches on it, feet on the bench. Dean slides next to him on the bench, back against the table so he can watch the surf crash against rocks forty feet below them. Dean hands food up to Sam and they eat in companionable silence, watching the lowering sun throw silver sparkles across the grey water.

Dean nudges Sam’s leg and hands up a pie when he looks over.

Sam eyes it suspiciously. “Pie for one?”

“Any pie is a pie for one if you’re not a pussy,” Dean comments. “‘Nother one?” he asks, holding up a beer. 

“Sure.” Sam slides closer as he reaches down for the beer. 

His leg is warm against Dean’s side, and Dean hangs his arm over Sam’s thigh, resting his head in his hand with a sigh. He feels Sam’s hand reaching tentatively, hovering just over his head.

There is a charge in the air for certain now. He can almost feel the sparks tingling between them. The silence has a different feel to it, as Sam’s hand lands on the back of his neck, long fingers curling around to press gently under his ear, Dean closes his eyes and holds his breath.

**Who makes the first overt move? Sam or Dean?**

_For Dean,[Go to Chapter 4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4409673)_

4430274 _For Sam,[Go to Chapter 6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4430274)_


	3. Night at the Motel

It’s almost full dark by the time Dean turns the Impala into the parking lot of the Bayside Inn. It’s nicer than their usual, but they’re flush for the first time in a while, so why not. 

Sam doesn’t even budge when the car comes to stop and Dean turns off the engine. He’s really out of it. Dean reaches over to shake his brother’s leg. His hand curves over Sam’s mid-thigh and he feels the seam of his jean against his fingers. Sam’s thighs are just as strong and hard as the rest of him and Dean can’t help but slide his palm down to Sam’s knee and back up as far as he dares, fingers actually darting down and slipping under Sam’s thigh at the seat.

There’s a tiny change in Sam’s breathing, a slight tensing of his muscles, and Dean knows Sam’s awake, but neither of them moves. Sam sighs and relaxes, boneless, against the seat, trapping the tips of Dean’s fingers under his leg. “Where are we?” he asks. His voice is sleep-rough. 

Dean gives him the lightest squeeze, rubbing this thumb in an arc across the faded denim. “You were sleeping so pretty, Princess. I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.” He tries to keep his tone light, licks his lips to try to get some moisture back. “I hope you didn’t drool on me.” He smiles.

He feels Sam smile against his shoulder. “You don’t deserve my drool,” he answers. His hand comes to rest, warm and heavy over Dean’s and there’s something in the air for sure now. Sam lifts his head and looks right at Dean. They’re only inches apart and Dean can see all the colors of Sam’s kaleidoscope eyes. Sam opens his mouth to say something and Dean can’t stop his eyes from flicking down to those sweet pink lips.

Before either one can move or say anything, Sam’s stomach growls loudly. Sam looks mortified and Dean can’t help laughing. “Hungry, Sasquatch?”

Sam twists his lips wryly. “Guess so. Yeah.” He pulls away slowly and Dean feels the thing between them stretching but not breaking. “They have food here?” Sam asks hopefully.

“Gotta be something. Let me go get a room and find out, okay?”

Sam finally pulls away, stretching. He nods around a yawn. 

Dean gets out and head to the office. He hears Sam’s door open and Sam get out of the car as he walks away.

Twenty minutes later, they’re unlocking the door to a fairly plush room with two queen beds, a nice flat screen TV, and what promises to be a nice, large bathroom. 

Sam crosses the floor and peek into the room. “Oh, man, check this out.” 

Dean tosses his duffle on the bed closest to the door and follows Sam. The bathroom is half the size of the bedroom and has a jacuzzi tub big enough for Sam and a double-headed shower with benches. Dean’s ‘awesome’ is heartfelt. “Dibs,” he says, pulling his jacket off as they stand there.

“Whatever,” Sam says. “Food will be here in half an hour?” he asks.

“Hmm,” Dean answers. He’s kind of distracted, peeling off more layers and staring at the shower. He pulls off his last shirt and can feel Sam’s eyes on him. Visions of the two of them in that shower push into his mind. He forces himself to meet Sam’s gaze.

The way Sam’s eyes flick quickly from Dean’s body to the shower and back makes Dean think that Sammy is on the same page. He leans back against the sink, resting his weight on his hands on the counter and kicks off his shoe.

“Half an hour?” Sam repeats, voice tight, palms rubbing against his legs. And Dean’s palms tingle with the memory of that warm denim against his skin.

Dean nods, eyes never leaving Sam’s as he toes off the other shoe. He’s dying to break this stalemate. To tell Sam to strip, to invite him into the shower, to close the distance between them and push Sam against the wall and kiss the breath out of him. But he can’t. If he’s wrong, if he’s the tiniest bit wrong, Sam could run again. It’s the constant fear the back of his mind. The thing that keeps him always just a bit on eggshells around Sam like he’s a spooked horse. Sam’s gotta make the first move. _Do it, Sam,_ Dean urges in his mind. _Just give me something._

**What does Sam do?**

_If he walks over to Dean,[Go to Chapter 5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4419447)_

_If he leaves the bathroom without saying anything,[Go to Chapter 7](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4430406)_


	4. Calling your bluff

Sam’s fingers press in, rubbing the bone behind Dean’s ear and that’s it. He’s sure he and Sam are on the same page now. Dean had had to wait for Sam years ago when they were young. Terrified of his own desire, of the thought of corrupting his beautiful little brother, Dean had held way, way back even on the days when Sam’s touches and heated looks had driven him into the bathroom for some fast and furious release. 

But they're grown up now, with no one left to judge them and no need to wait.

“Sammy,” Dean sighs and drops his head to Sam’s leg, placing a gentle kiss on his thigh before surging up and around to stand between Sam’s legs, arms braced on either side of his body. Dean puts one knee up on the bench and tilts his face up to Sam. He can feel Sam’s chest heaving against his arms, can see the desire in Sam’s dark eyes and the set of his mouth. 

Dean leans in. “Yeah?”

Sam grabs Dean’s hips and hauls him all the way up on the bench. “Yeah,” he exhales.

The kiss is perfect. The gentle slide of lips, Sam’s hand in Dean’s hair. Then Sam opens his mouth, and it’s all teeth and tongue and lips, the faint bitter taste of beer and the overwhelming feeling of coming home at long last.

Dean pulls away to breathe, panting against Sam’s neck, mouth open and tasting the skin there. Sam yanks at Dean’s shirts, burrowing his hands up and under the layers. His nails leave trails of spark up and down Dean’s skin, and Dean shudders. He’s been half-hard since Sam leaned on him in the car and now Sam’s got him going from zero to sixty in zero point five seconds. 

He thrusts his hips forward, trying to press against Sam’s body, but the angle is bad and the bench is in the way. He reaches down between them to press his hand against the long, hard line of Sam’s erection. That’s one thing he'd remembered very well all these years. His little brother is hung like a horse.

“Fuck,” Sam moans, and thrusts his hands as far as he can down the back of Dean’s jeans. His fingers dig deep into the muscles of Dean’s ass, clenching and unclenching, yanking Dean onto his tiptoes with each grab. _Jesus_. When he’d allowed himself to think about this, Dean had imagined them all softcore-pornish; candle-lit and soft-focused under some scratchy motel blanket with him assuring Sam he wasn’t going to pull away this time.

But if Sam wants it hot and heavy in semi-public, Dean’s good with that, too.

Dean rips at Sam’s belt, undoing the clasp and popping the button of Sam’s jeans with one hand. He’s got to feel it; feel Sam hot and hard under his hand. When he slinks his hand through the opening in Sam’s boxers, they both groan like they’re dying.

Dean stretches his face up to Sam’s to recapture his mouth as he strokes Sam slow and strong. He pulls Sam’s head into his, so Sam can keep both hands on Dean’s ass. Sam kisses like a force of nature, tongue invading Dean’s mouth, fucking into him hard and fast. Dean gives sincere thanks to every person who ever helped Sam hone that skill. 

Though Sam’s the one getting jerked off, Dean is halfway to coming just from the feel of it all. He sucks on Sam’s tongue and swipes his fingers over the soaking head of Sam’s cock. Sam gasps and shudders, fingers slipping to the crack of Dean’s ass and all Dean can imagine is Sam’s cock fucking into him the way his tongue is. He yanks Sam’s head away. “God, Sam. I want you to fuck me.” 

Sam stiffens against him, cock throbbing and growing harder in Dean’s hand. “Ah,” Sam cries. “Fuck, Dean. You can’t, can’t say that.” He’s panting harder now, and Dean loves feeling Sam coming apart under his hands. Not that he’s doing much better. His dick is so hard, he’s afraid he’s going to have zipper imprints in it if he can’t open his jeans right now.

Dean pries himself off of Sam long enough to yank open his jeans. The weight of Sam’s hands pushes them off of Dean’s hips and down to his knees. The cool breeze on his ass reminds Dean they are pretty much in public here. Time to move this along and get to somewhere private.

Sam is close, Dean knows. All it would take was a few more strokes to feel Sam lose it all hot and wet over his hand. On the other hand, he’s dying to get his mouth around Sam’s dick. They’d never done that when they were younger. What were the chances of them getting caught?

**Mutual hand jobs and a fast drive to a motel or a blow job and a surprise for Dean?**

_For hand jobs,[Go to Chapter 8](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4430790)_

_For blow jobs,[Go to Chapter 10](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4586916)_


	5. Take a Chance on Me

The silence is stretching too long and Dean’s about to make a joke or insult Sam’s hair, anything to break this tension. Then Sam bites his lip, looks down, floppy hair covering his eyes. Dean’s pretty sure he hears Sam whisper “Fuck it,” before he looks back up with such heat in his eyes, it knocks the breath out of Dean’s lungs.

Sam rips off his jacket and overshirt, throwing them on the floor, before plastering himself to Dean’s front. Dean barely has time to utter “thank god,” before Sam is gripping his face with his giant hands and pulling Dean's head up, putting it right where Sam wants it.

Dean is so on board with that.

Kissing Sam now is nothing like he remembers. That Sam was smaller, tentative, and inexperienced. This Sam is huge and so sure of himself. He kisses like a force of nature like it’s his right, and Dean sends out a brief prayer of thanks to everyone that helped Sam learn how to do that.

Dean manages to gather together enough functioning brain cells to wrap his arms around Sam, one hand between his shoulder blades, as if he can somehow push Sam deeper into him, as if Sam hasn’t always been as deep into Dean as his own heartbeat. The other hand he slides down the back of Sam’s jeans, feeling the muscles tighten and move as Sam shoves his thigh in between Dean’s legs, giving Dean something to grind against. And Dean is not one to say no to an opportunity like that. He drops his weight down, riding Sam’s thigh like it’s a pony.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam moans as Dean’s dick presses hard and thick into him. “Fuck, Dean. You feel good.” Sam uses his totally unfairly long arms to grab Dean by the hips and just drag him up and down his leg until Dean’s up on his tiptoes at the top. 

Dean clutches at Sam’s arms, groaning at the feel of his biceps bunching and moving under his hands. “Fuck, Sammy. Why did you have to go and get so big and so fucking gorgeous?” He tilts his head up, reaching desperately for Sam’s mouth again. 

Sam gasps and his arm muscles ripple as he gathers Dean up with one arm, grabbing onto the back of Dean’s hair, fingers slipping through the short strands as he crashes his mouth into Dean’s. Sam just fucks his tongue into Dean’s mouth, and Dean sucks on it like he plans to do to Sam’s cock sooner rather than later. Sam is moaning so pretty and just rolling his hips into Dean over and over. All Dean can feel is Sam and Sam and Sam, all around him and he’s okay with it, okay with the fact that he’s about to come in his pants like a fourteen year old after making out with his little brother for five whole minutes. Actually, he is so amazingly okay with it even he is surprised.

Sam drops his head down to pant hot and heavy against Dean’s neck. He’s shaking and Dean tries to get his own breathing under control as he runs his hands gently up and down Sam’s back. He’s about to say something when Sam freaking bites him. Just bites and sucks at the tender skin on Dean’s neck until Dean is whining and begging for Sam to do it harder as he holds Sam’s head in place.

“Oh god. Jesus. Fuck I’m gonna come, Sammy.” Dean can feel it building. Feels like it’s been building for years, and thank god he can feel Sam’s dick pulsing against his leg even through the two layers of denim separating them. He couldn’t deal with it if he was alone in feeling this way. Sam bites down hard and pinches Dean’s nipple in a sneak attack. Dean yells but manages to hold back his orgasm. Not yet, he doesn’t want it to be over just yet. 

Sam pulls back far enough to look Dean in the eye. Sam’s face is as flushed as Dean knows his is, the red spreading down his chest, disappearing under his shirt collar. “Shower or bed?” Sam asks.

Dean’s brain isn’t responding to words at the moment, so he just stares into Sam’s eyes, fascinated by the way the black pupils have almost swallowed all the color in them. “You’ve got too many clothes on,” he says, reaching out to unbutton Sam’s jeans. 

He presses into Sam’s hard length and Sam moans and curses and grabs Dean’s wrist in a tight grip. “No. _fuck._ Jesus, Dean. I need to…” He breaks off, panting, as Dean manages to rub the back of his fingers against Sam’s erection. Dean’s pretty sure the whining sound he’s hearing is coming from his mouth but he doesn’t care. Sam grabs both his hands and slams them back down on the counter. “Dean,” he barks.

Dean almost comes just at that, and isn’t that something they’ll be exploring later. Right now, though, he just looks up at Sam through his eyelashes, mouth open slightly, and licks his lips. “Yeah, little brother?” he drawls.

“Fucking hell,” Sam moans, pressing his hand tight into his crotch. Another thing to add to the list of kinks to explore. With a mighty effort, Sam backs down from the orgasm.

Dean thinks that he could stay on this edge of orgasm until he died (again) and he would die happy. It’s like a drug, like the best drug he’s ever tried. Sam leans in and Dean closes his eyes and lifts his chin for the kiss. Instead, he feels Sam’s hand close over his jaw and Sam’s breath on his ear.

“I really want to fuck you,” Sam is saying. “Is that good?”

Dean can only nod.

“Good,” Sam whispers. “Good. Now the question is do you want it on the bed or in the shower?”

Is that a trick question? “Both?” he answers.

Sam chuckles darkly and nips at Dean’s earlobe. “Good answer. But which first. You have to pick one.”

Dean cock is so hard it hurts and his brains seem to be dribbling out the end of it. How is supposed to choose?

**Which does Dean choose**

_For the shower,[Go to Chapter 9](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4545966)_

_For the bed,[Go to Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4722876)_


	6. All's fair in love and sex

“Dean,” Sam says, voice low and dark. He slides his palm down to caress Dean’s face. There’s nothing brotherly about it. Feels like a green light to Dean.

Dean turns his face into Sam’s palm and Sam’s fingers slip across his lips. “Yeah, Sammy?” he drawls, tasting Sam’s skin as he does.

Sam pushes against his mouth slightly and Dean nips it lightly between his teeth, running his tongue along the finger. 

“Fuck.”

Dean chuckles and does it again.

“You fucker,” Sam says, reaching down and hauling Dean up. “Get up here and fucking kiss me.”

“Kiss that filthy mouth?” Dean says even as Sam is manhandling him onto his lap. “I don’t think so.” He puts his hands on Sam’s chest, his mouth hovering so close to Sam’s their breath mingles in the space between.

Sam’s hand clamps down on the back of Dean’s head and pulls him the final distance. 

Sam kisses like he owns Dean. And Dean is fine with that. After all, Sam has been his since the day he was born, and he’s belonged to Sam since he was four years old. Dean kneels up on the table, both hands in Sam’s hair and tilts his brother’s head up, kissing down into him. His tongue is in Sam’s mouth and Sam sucks on it like a lollipop.

Dean’s head is spinning and the way his legs are spread on either side of Sam’s body pulls his jeans so tight against his dick that it almost hurts. He blames both those things on how easy it is for Sam to lift him and spin them both until Dean is on his back on the table, legs hanging over the edge. Sammy kneels over him, between his legs. His broad shoulders block out the sky. 

Sam leans down slowly, so slowly. He lowers himself to his elbows, his forearms cradling Dean’s head. He staring at Dean, breathing heavily, chest heaving like he’s just finished a marathon.

Dean reaches up to touch Sam’s mouth. It shouldn’t be so fucking hot to see his little brother’s lips stubble burned, swollen and red from kissing him, but damn him again if it isn’t the hottest thing he’s seen in ages. He spreads his legs wider and bends his knees up so his feet are flat on the table. Clamping his legs against Sam’s hips, he thrusts up against Sam.

Sam groans and pushes Dean’s ass back down to the table. “Yeah?” he asks, breathlessly.

“Fuck yeah,” Dean swears.

Sam cock is like an iron bar against Dean’s and they surge relentlessly against each other. Sam’s mouth is hot on Dean’s neck as he sucks and bites at the tender skin. His hand reaches blindly for the edge of the table, desperate for some leverage.

Dean can feel the orgasm building low in his stomach, pounding in the pulse at this throat. He wants more than anything to rip off their jeans and feel Sam’s skin on his but he doesn’t think he can stop long enough to even try. The roll and press of Sam’s length against his cock, the drag of denim across his balls, and Sam’s fucking mouth leaving a necklace of marks on his skin is going to bring him off in point five seconds. But he’s not going to go alone.

He gets a hand in Sam’s hair and pulls his head up. Sam releases his flesh with a pop and a whine. His eyes are wild and the flush on his cheeks spreads all way down his neck and disappears under the collar of his shirt. Dean bites at Sam’s jaw, feeling the stubble with his lips and tongue as he swivels his hips against Sam's. 

“Fuck. Fuck,” Sam curses, trying to pull his head back down to Dean's mouth.

Dean holds him tightly, tugging at Sam's hair. At Sam’s full body shudder and deep groan, Dean yanks hard on his hair again. “Yeah? Feel good?”

“Dean,” Sam whines, just like he always had when Dean wouldn’t give him what he wanted. It should freak Dean out, but Dean's a pretty sick fuck and it just makes it even hotter.

“I thought so,” he says. He shoves his hand down Sam’s jeans and grabs two handfuls of hard, muscular ass. “I want you to fuck me, baby boy.”

“Dean!” Sam gasps out, thrusting hard against Dean. So hard, Dean figures he’s going to have diamond-shaped bruises on his ass from the table. “Fuck, Dean. You can’t say that,” Sam whispers into Dean’s neck.

“No?” Dean digs his nails into Sam’s skin and drags his hands up Sam’s back. “So I shouldn't tell you how I’ve wanted that monster cock of yours since you were sixteen?”

Sam just moans as Dean’s nail draw pink lines up to his shoulder blades. Seems like Dean's not alone it getting off on the fact that they're brothers. Awesome.

“Yeah,” Dean sigh, feeling his own orgasm hurtling towards him. He is going to come in his jeans like a teenager and it feels great. “Yeah, little brother, that’s it. Come for me.”

Sam groans like he’s dying, then grips the table hard, bearing down on Dean like he wants to drive him through the table. Dean feels him pulsing hot and wet into his jeans. Sam’s mouth finds Dean’s neck for one last bite and Dean follows him over the edge with a yell. Sam keeps thrusting and Dean pulls him tightly against him as Dean shoots his spine, heart, and soul out through his dick.

Long minutes pass where all Dean can do is listen to the blood pounding in his ears as he struggles for breath. 

“Jesus Christ,” Sam pants out. "Holy shit." He struggles back up to his elbows, looking Dean right in the eye. “And you say _I_ have a filthy mouth?”

Dean tries to look smug but he’s pretty sure he just looks fucked out. “I think you liked it, Sammy.” He shifts his hips against Sam’s, rubbing them both against proof of how well Sam and he both liked it. “Now get off me, this table is killing me.”

Sam shoves off with a groan, and holds his hand out to pull Dean up as well. Dean takes it, grimacing at the cold, wet mess in his pants. “Motel?” he asks.

“Definitely,” Sam agrees, pulling Dean against him for a deep, long kiss. 

When they break, they keep their arms around each other as they walk to the car. “So,” Sam says, digging for a towel. “About me fucking you?”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, shoving a dirty but dry t-shirt down the front of his jeans. It’s not a sexy look but screw it. He’ll change after he showers at the motel. He hopes they have a good one.

“You still, uh, up for it?”

Dean looks at him, lifts one eyebrow. “Well, not right this second, but give me twenty minutes...”

Sam snorts a laugh. “Twenty minutes? You wish old man.”

Dean rolls his eyes and gets in the car. Sam follows, and as his door slams, Dean reaches over and punches him in the arm. “Tell you what, first one back in the game when we get to the hotel gets to be on top. What do you say?”

Sam looks over at him, eyes heavy-lidded. He sucks his lower lip in between his teeth as he gives Dean a slow up and down look that’s full of bad, bad promises Dean just knows Sam intends to keep. “Sounds good to me.”

Dean shudders with aftershocks at the pictures that idea puts in his head. No matter what happens, Dean figures, they both win.

**[Go to Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4722876)**


	7. You can't always get what you want (but sometimes you get what you need)

Dean slumps against the counter. _Damn it._ He rubs his eyes with the heel of his hands. He’d been so sure. Well, whatever is going on with Sam, Dean can’t take much more of it tonight. Maybe he’ll go out, find someone to hook up with. Someone who is nothing like Sam. A girl. Even as he thinks it, he knows he won’t. He’ll stay here with Sam, keeping to himself on his own bed, eating pizza and drinking beer and making rude comments at the television to cover the things that aren’t being said.

He’s not really ready to go out there, but he also doesn’t want to have to put his dirty clothes back on after the shower and he is certainly not going to walk out in a towel, so he’s going to have to get some clean clothes to change into. He takes a deep breath and plasters on his best everything is okay smile.

Sam is sitting on his bed, talking on the motel phone of all things. “Yeah,” he’s saying. “Just keep the change. Thanks.” He hangs up.

Dean’s back is to him as he digs through the duffle bag. “Hey,” Dean says, clearing his throat when his voice comes out a little tighter than he would like. “Hey. What was that about?” When he hears Sam standing up but not answering him, Dean looks over at him. Sam strides across the room on his freakishly long legs and flips the latch to double lock the door. “Sam?” Dean asks.

The look on Sam’s face makes Dean breath catch. He’s sure his eye can’t get any wider. As Sam stalks towards him, Dean realizes he’s clutching his clean boxers to his naked chest with both hands, like the about-to-be-ravished heroine of a romance novel. 

Sam stalks over to him and yanks the offending cloth out of his hands and throws it on the floor.

“Dude!” Dean squeaks. (In a manly way, of course). “Those are clean.”

Sam stops moving, body an inch away from Dean’s. He raises one eyebrow and gives Dean a look like he’s the biggest idiot on the planet. 

As Sam pushes Dean backwards onto the bed, Dean’s inclined to agree with him.

Sam follows Dean down, catching himself on his elbows just before falling onto the bed.

Still not quite believing this is happening, Dean searches Sam’s face. Sam looks just like Dean remembers from the very first time they ever kissed – kind of nervous, a little scared, and completely turned on. It goes straight to Dean's cock, just like it did back then. He may be a sick fuck, but at least he's consistent.

He slides his hands up and under the back of Sam’s shirt . “Yeah, Sammy? You sure?”

Sam drops his head down and ghosts a kiss along Dean’s mouth. “Yeah, De. I’m sure.”

“Thank god,” Dean exhales, and pulls Sam’s body flush against his.

He’d thought about this so many times - late at night when he couldn’t sleep, while following his headlights down dark roads, and way too many times in the shower – and 99% of those times he’d imagined it hot and heavy. Years of pent up frustration, months of this maybe-yes-maybe-no dance all on top of a lifetime of history erupting into one or the other of them thrown against the nearest horizontal (or vertical) surface.

The way Sam leans in and kisses him now? Dean had never, not once, imagined that. 

Turns out, it is everything he never knew he needed. Sam’s hands cradles Dean’s face like it’s something precious, like he means something to Sam.

Dean can feel everything Sam is trying to say. Neither one of them has ever been good at talking. Even Sam can’t put what was between them into something as imprecise as language. But this, this speaking body to body, this they can do.

Sam kisses deep and slow, and it means he’s not going anywhere. He drops tender quick kisses on Dean’s mouth, and up his cheek to his temple, and it means thank you for taking care of me.

Dean wraps his arms and legs tightly around Sam, burying his hand in Sam’s hair,and pulls Sam’s head to his shoulders. “Sammy,” he whispers. And it means I love you.

They kiss until Dean feels drunk with it. He rolls them until Sam is on his back, and Dean is pushed up against his side with one leg thrown over Sam’s thigh. Sam’s hand pushes between Dean’s shoulder blades, urging him deeper, the other hand holds Dean’s head at the most perfect angle. Ancient mathematicians could have written odes about the angle at which Sam and Dean’s mouths mold together, if mathematicians wrote odes.

Dean realizes he’s forgetting to breathe. He’s so caught up in the heat and taste of Sam’s mouth. At the same time, he realizes that the pleasure has been building and spreading from where Sam is touching him. The feeling has built so slowly and so gorgeously through his whole body that his fingertips tingle and his hips are, without his conscious knowledge or permission, rolling his suddenly rock hard cock against Sam. He groans out an exhale and rolls more onto Sam’s body, dragging his thigh heavily over the bulge in Sam’s jeans.

Sam gasps and grabs for Dean’s leg, thrusting up against it. 

Dean, master strategist that he is, takes this opportunity to grab Sam’s bottom lips between his teeth and bite, smoothing away the sting with his tongue when Sam moans.

He launches a sneak attack under Sam’s shirt, taking note of the way Sam jerks and curses when Dean pinches a nipple. He’s trailing his tongue down Sam’s jaw with, if the way Sam is clutching at his leg is any indication, great success. He’s just about to bite down on the stretch of neck Sam has so lovingly (desperately) bared, when Sam’s stomach gurgles loudly.

Dean starts to pull away and Sam grabs the back of his head and holds Dean’s mouth to his neck. “Don’t stop,” he begs. “Please.”

Dean returns to tonguing and biting the thin skin at the juncture of Sam’s neck and shoulder, pulling back to admire the way Sam’s skin is purpling under his attention. 

Sam’s still got his hand clamped as well as he in can in the short strands of Dean’s hair. “Fuck, Dean” he gasps. “Harder. 

Dean complies and feels Sam’s dick jump under where his thigh rests across Sammy’s body. He slide his hand back down Sam’s chest until his pinky just starts to push under the waist of his jeans, a hair's breadth from his dick.

This time Dean can feel as well as hear the loud, hollow gurgle from Sam’s stomach. “Okay,” he says, lifting his mouth from Sam over Sam’s vociferous objections. 

“Dean! Fuck.” Sam pushes the heel of his hand into his eyes. “Don't stop God.”

He sounds almost embarrassed but Dean just leans over and kisses the backs of his hands until Sam moves them out of the way.

Sam gives Dean the full puppy-dog eyes.

Dean is not swayed. “Food first, baby boy,” he says, darting down for a quick kiss. “Then fucking.”

Sam moans and manages to grab his dick with one hand and punch Dean on the shoulder with the other. Dean pulls off Sam and rolls off the bed before Sam can grab him. 

By the time he’s opened the door and found the pizza and beer waiting for them, Sam’s sitting up on the bed, shoes kicked off. “That was not a half an hour,” Sam remarks. “I’m really glad I asked them to leave it at the door.”

“You always were the brains of this operation,” Dean agrees, carrying the pizza and beers over. He joins Sam on the bed. “Eat up, You’re going to need your strength.” He laughs as Sam folds a slice in half and shoves most of it in his mouth at one time. “Sexy,” he comments.

Sam rolls his eyes and reaches over between Dean’s legs, pressing against his still-hard cock. He squeezes and Dean can’t hold back the sigh and shudder at the feeling. “Fuck,” he says. “Excellent point.” He shoves the rest of his slice in his mouth.

**[Go to Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4722876)**


	8. We've got company

The chance of them getting caught gets exponentially higher as Dean hears the crunching of car wheels on the gravel road. He doesn't care enough to stop. It wouldn't be the first time he's scandalized the locals somewhere and he really wants to get Sam spread out on a bed sooner rather than later. He slides his palm across the heads of both their cocks, slicking up his hand, then reaches down and grabs them together tightly.

"Come on, baby boy," he whispers hot and dirty into Sam's ear. "Let's get out of here and go somewhere where you can show me what you've learned to do with that monster cock."

"Oh, god yeah," Sam moans. He wraps his hand around Dean's, squeezing them together harder.

They thrust against each other, faster and faster, mouth sealed together, as the voices of the new picnickers drift down the path.

"They're gonna see us," Sam whispers into Dean's ear.

Dean whimpers and digs his free hand into Sam's bicep. He feels Sam smile against his cheek. Oh man, Sam's got his number now.

Sam flicks the point of his tongue against Dean's earlobe before biting it gently. "They're almost here, Dean. They're gonna get here and see your ass waving in the breeze and hear you moaning as you come all over your little brother."

Dean groans like he's dying, then makes Sam's prophecy come true as he comes like an explosion. He shoots out all over both their hands, and up Sam's stomach as his cock jerks. When the first spurts of heat splash onto him, Sam knocks Dean's hand out of the way presses them together, rutting into Dean's body until his comes with a litany of grunts and curses.

Dean's knees cut out from under him, but he catches himself on the edge of the table. He hears a gasp behind him and looks up into Sam's eyes to see barely suppressed laughter. They yank up their jeans and run as best they can to the car, leaving the old couple to stare after them, mouths hanging open.

They open the doors and slide into the car at the same time. Dean grimaces at the rapidly cooling mess in his jeans. By the look on his face, Sammy isn't too happy about the load in his pants either. "Motel?" Dean asks.

"God, yes," Sam replies. "One with a really good shower."

**[Go to Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4722876)**


	9. Singing in the Shower

With a show of will greater than Dean is capable of now, Sam actually steps _away_ from Dean. He rips his shirt over his head as he reaches into the shower. 

All Dean can do is stare. Holy _fuck_ his brother is ripped. His muscles have muscles. Sure, technically Dean had known that. It's not like he doesn't see Sam semi-naked on a a regular basis, but this is different. This is Sam naked with intent. Dean's mouth goes dry at the thought of getting his hands all over a wet, soapy Sam. A low throb of pleasure bordering on pain spreads from his balls up through his spine. He pops open the button of his jeans and the weight and press of his erection forces the zipper down. He shudders as the cool air hits his hot skin.

There's a hiss of water on tile. Dean's belt buckles hits the floor with a clatter and he eagerly steps out of his jeans.

Sam's talking even before he turns back to Dean. “God, Dean. Waited so long for -” At the sight of Dean naked and rock hard, he cuts off dead. “Christ,” he breathes. He flicks open the buckle and button of his jeans and lets them fall to the floor.

Now it's Dean's turn to stare. He may have wondered (okay, fantasized) about how far down the cut of Sam's hips went, and he might have pictured the pot of gold at the end of Sam's treasure trail. But obviously his imagination was seriously inadequate. 

Sam is cut like a marble statue and he's looking at Dean like he's the last candy bar in the store. Dean whimpers as his cock jerks hard. Oh, he is not going to last at all. _Fuck the shower,_ he thinks and crosses the short distance between them. He kisses Sam hard, then folds gracefully down to his knees

Now it's Sam's turn to whine. “Dean!” he cries, voice strangled. A hot pulse of precome drips down his length and _goddamn._ If Dean doesn't get a move on it, they're both going to come without a hand on either one of them.

“Not gonna last, Sammy,” Dean confesses as he licks across the tip of Sam's dick. 

Sam yells and flails a hand out, grasping the shower door for support.

Dean hums his approval of this reaction around Sam's cock as he slides his mouth down as far as it can go. Which is pretty damn far, if he doesn't say so himself.

Sam seems impressed by Dean's skill. His fingers squeeze bruises into Dean's shoulder. “Oh, fuck. Oh, shit,” Sam pants as he thrusts in and out of Dean's mouth. “Still want to fuck you, Dean. God, just gotta fuck you.” 

He just keep saying things like that, filthy things, promises and desperate begging pouring from his lips. It's going to drive Dean mad. He wants more than anything to get a hand on himself, but he's got one wrapped around Sam's dick and the other clamped on Sam's ass for support and the illusion of control. Sam feels and tastes like heaven in his mouth. He's drooling and slurping; it's a hot messy blow job, just like Dean likes. He slides almost all the way off, lips stretched obscenely around the top of Sam's cock, and looks up through his lashes at his baby brother.

Dean knows he looks pornographic like this: on his knees, face stuffed full of cock, chin and lips shiny with Sam's precome. He just doesn't know what the view will do to Sam. He finds out fast enough when Sam stares down at him, eyes black with lust. “Dean,” Sam growls - fucking _growls_. He loosens his death grip on the shower and Dean's shoulder, clamps his oversized hands onto either side of Dean's head and starts fucking his face in earnest. 

He's just letting loose with a stream of filth now, about how hard he's going to fuck Dean, how Dean's going to take it and he's going to love it and beg for more. Dean can barely breathe with Sam's dick halfway down his throat and he'd object to all of it if he wasn't suddenly busy coming so hard his vision is starting to go grey. He shoots his brains out his dick and as his hot come hits Sam's inner thigh, Sam gives a strangled shout and buries himself in Dean's mouth. The feel of Sam pulsing and shooting over Dean's tongue, the feel of it slipping down Dean's throat, throws Dean into massive aftershocks and he wonders if it counts as a whole other orgasm.

Sam's moaning softly as his cocks slips out of Dean's mouth, dragging down his lips and leaving a trail of salty sweet Sam. Dean follows Sam down to the floor and they lay there, chests heaving. Sam's got one arm thrown over his eyes and his mouth is moving, but no words are coming out. Dean nods in agreement. “Fucking A, Sammy,” he croaks. 

Sam pants and nods, smiling. 

Dean lifts a trembling and punches Sam weakly in the arm.

“What was that for?” Sam asks without pulling his arm off his face.

'Because,” Dean says. “We could have been doing this for years.”

Sam barks out a laugh and shakes his head ruefully. There's a knock at the door. Sam moans and Dean struggles up to one elbow. “Food,” he reminds his brother as Sam tries to pull him back down.

“Oh yeah,” Sam says, falling back down to the floor. He waves his arm around the room magnanimously. “You can get it.”

Dean stops pulling his jeans on long enough to toss a wadded up t-shirt at Sam's prone body. Sam doesn't blink. He does grab at Dean's ankle as Dean starts to step over him to go get the door. “Shower,” he says, voice a little stronger already. He runs his hand as far up Dean's leg as he can. “Shower, then food, then bed. What do you think?”

Dean smiles the full-on Winchester smile. “Awesome.”

**[Go to Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4722876)**


	10. Kiss It Better

The chances of them getting caught gets exponentially higher as Dean hears the crunching of car wheels on the gravel road. He absently puts his finger to his mouth when he looks up to see if the car is headed their way. He can taste Sam on his fingers, and the groan Sam makes as Dean flicks his tongue out to lick his fingertips goes right to Dean’s cock.

The other car is getting closer. Dean pulls his jeans up with one hand, and he grabs Sam around the back of the neck, pulling him in for a quick hard kiss. “C’mon little brother. We’ve got company.”

Sam throws a look over his shoulder and hops off the table. He makes a face as he tries to zip his jeans over his aching dick. Dean grabs him by the belt loop and tugs him towards the Impala. “Don’t bother. Just get in the car.”

Sam lets Dean drag him around to the far side of the car. Dean yanks open the door and pushes Sam down into the back seat. “Sit,” he orders. “Watch your head.”

Sam falls back against the seat, legs hanging awkwardly out the door. Dean grabs him behind the knees and pulls him forward until his ass is right on the edge of the seat. 

Dean tugs at Sam’s jeans until his bare skin hits the chill leather seat. Sam’s cock is thick and long and hard, shiny with the precome dripping down it, and Dean has got to get his mouth around. “Yeah, Sam,” he whispers as he drops to his knees in the rocky parking lot.

Sam is breathing hard, arm thrown over his eyes. “Oh, Jesus,” he moans as Dean wraps a hand around his cock and pulls it away from Sam’s body. Dean licks up it like it’s a lollipop and Sam whimpers. When Dean stretches his mouth around the top of Sam’s cock, Sam’s hands fly out to grip the back of the seats, fingers digging into the leather. “God, please,” he sigh, hips thrusting shallowly as if he is fighting to keep from shoving his dick down Dean’s throat.

Dean slides slowly up and down on Sam’s dick a few times, memorizing the weight and taste on Sam on his tongue, feeling the stretch in the corners of his mouth. He spirals his tongue around the head and Sam groans like he’s dying. Dean looks down the length of Sam’s incredible body spread out in the back seat of his beloved car, and feels the first shudders of orgasm gathering. He hears the other car park, hears the doors creak open and the voices of the people getting out of it. They’re sheltered by the car, but not really hidden. It wouldn’t take too long for someone to figure out what’s going on.

He pulls off Sam with a hard suck, and pumps Sam’s cock with his fist. 

Sam grunts like he’s been punched. “Shit. Fuck,” he pants out loudly, eyes still tightly closed.

“Shh,” Dean says, rubbing the head of Sam’s cock back and forth over his lips. “Do you want them to hear you?” he asks as Sam moans. 

Sam whimpers through tightly clenched teeth and his hips lift and twist. 

Dean chuckles at that, and licks across the tip of Sam’s cock, dragging his fist down the length of it. Leaning forward, he opens up and takes Sam in as far as he can, loving the feeling of Sam’s thick dick stretching his lips and sliding across his tongue. He concentrates on driving Sam crazy. He holds Sam’s hips down with both hands, leaning his weight on Sam’s body, as he bobs up and down on Sams dick, sucking and licking the entire length. Sam’s moaning low and continuously now, something that might be Dean’s name and some things that are definitely curses.

Dean slides off with a pop and Sam yells. Dean shoots a glance out the window, and sees the woman look over towards the car with a small frown. She says something to the man she is with, and he looks over as well. "Uh oh,” Dean says, running a finger across the slit in Sam’s dick. He does it again just to hear the broken whimper Sam makes. “Looks like they can hear you, baby boy.” Sam's cock jerks hard under Dean's hand. _Oh, Sam liked that,_ he thinks, making a mental note to try it again later. 

Dean rub his palm across the slick wet head of Sam’s cock, then wraps his fingers around it. Sam’s still got his eyes closed, and Dean’s had enough of that. “Sam, open your eyes,” he orders.

Sam shakes his head, fingers digging into the upholstery again. “Can’t,” he pants. “Can’t, De.”

Dean lets go of Sam’s cock, sits down lower, and places a hand on Sam’s knee. He leans forward and bites a kiss into Sam’s inner thigh. “Yeah, you can. Come on, Sammy.” He mouths across Sam’s ball, relishing the feel and scent of Sam, and Sam shudders beneath him.

Dean kneels up, sliding his hands up Sam’s thighs as he does. Sam is trembling, cock dripping. He face is twisted in pleasure and his damn eyes are still closed. Dean needs to see Sam’s eyes. Needs to know Sam sees _him_ , that Sam isn’t pretending he's someone else. “Sam,” Dean barks, fingers tightening on Sam’s legs. “Look at me.”

Sam gives a shuddering inhale, pushes himself up on his elbows, and looks at Dean. “Dean,” he whispers.

Sam’s expression washes over Dean. Love and lust and awe mix together like the swirls of colors in Sam’s eyes. Dean knows he’s smiling like an idiot, but he can’t help it. “Yeah, Sammy,” he whispers. “Yeah.” Eyes locked on Sam’s, he lowers his mouth over his cock again. Sam’s eyes get comically wide as Dean takes him almost all the way in. When Dean pulls back and looks up at Sam from under his eyelids, Sam shouts. “Fuck, Dean.” He thrusts up and comes hard, pulsing down Dean’s throat. His face is beautiful agony and his eyes never leave Dean’s.

It’s too much. Dean pulls off for air, Sam’s release sliding over his lips, and comes, untouched, with a yell of his own.

When the world comes back, he’s still kneeling in the dirt, head on Sam’s thighs and Sam stroking his head with a shaking hand. 

“Jesus Christ,” Sam says. 

Dean can only laugh roughly. “Yeah,” he croaks out. “No shit.”

“You boys okay over there?” the man from the other car calls out.

Sam’s laugh has a decidedly inappropriate edge to it. Dean smacks him.

“Yeah,” he calls out. He clears his throat and licks his lips with a wicked look at Sam. “We’re good, Thanks.” He pushes himself up and leans his elbows on the roof. He really hope the huge wet spot on his jeans isn’t visible in the fading light. “My brother just, uh, sprained his knee. And I was fixing him up.”

The man doesn’t look completely convinced, but what is he going to say? ‘That sounded like a blow job to me’? His wife gives Dean a look that says clear as day _Really? That’s the best you could come up with?_ Dean smiles wide at her, and she shakes her head, but pulls her husband further away from the Impala.

Dean looks down and Sam is shaking with silent laughter, eyes bright. Dean knocks their knees together. “Come on. Pull yourself together. Let’s go find a motel.”

Sam lifts his ass of the seat and slides his jeans up. He zips and buttons them, then holds his hand out for Dean to pull him up. He slides out of the car and grabs Dean around the waist. 

The kiss is deep, and Sam chases every taste of himself out of Dean’s mouth before letting go. Dean can feel the shit-eating grin on his face as he watches Sam walk around to the shotgun seat.

He looks across the roof of the car as Sam gets in. When he looks up, the woman is watching him with a smirk.

“Guess you fixed him up good,” she says.

Dean can feel the blush starting in his cheeks.

Sam rolls down the window and sticks his head out. “He kissed it all better,” he answers her.

She looks shocked, then bursts out laughing. 

Dean slides into the seat and pulls out in a cloud of dust.

Sam is still laughing when they hit the main road. “Feeling good, Sammy?” Dean asks.

“Feeling great,” he answers, stretching his hand out the window and surfing his hand along the air currents. “Motel?”

“Absolutely,” Dean answers.

“One with a good shower.” Sam turns to look at Dean. “And a king bed.”

Dean smiles and slips his hand over Sam’s leg. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

The sun sets over the Pacific Ocean as they head down the highway.

**[Go to Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2032056/chapters/4722876)**


	11. Rome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much smut.

It’s all behind them now. Whatever detours they’d taken over the years, whatever delays and missed opportunities, they’re in the past. Right now, they’re in a motel room, surrounded by empty pizza boxes, beer bottles, and wet towels, and they’re exactly where they’re supposed to be.

And Sam is exactly where Dean wants him to be - naked and underneath him. Perfection.

Dean’s not a small guy, but Sam’s huge, and ripped. Dean wants to lick him from top to bottom, to nip and taste and find all the spots that make Sam squirm or shudder or moan. He’s been doing that for the last ten minutes, keeping Sam’s hands pinned to the mattress as he bites and sucks a bruise into the junction of Sam’s neck and shoulder. It’s his favorite place for the moment, the muscle firm under his jaw, the skin soft and salty on his tongue. 

Dean’s knees are drawn up alongside Sam’s body, and he can’t seem to stop his body from rocking gently up and down. Sam’s cock drags along the crack of Dean’s ass as he does, and Dean clenches around it with a whine as it presses against his entrance. It’s making him crazy and he never wants it to stop.

He catches Sam’s skin between his teeth and nips sharply. Sam hisses, and Dean feels Sam’s cock jerk against his ass.

“Dean,” Sam says, and there’s a warning in his voice that sends a thrill down Dean’s spine. He rocks down harder into Sam, releasing his wrists so he can splay his hands across Sam’s perfect chest. He thumbs across Sam’s nipples, admiring the bite marks he’d made around them.

“Dean,” Sam repeats more sharply, grabbing Dean’s wrists to stop them from moving.

“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean drawls. He knows exactly what Sam’s saying, of course. He can see it in the dark flash of Sam’s eyes, feel it in the way Sam’s hand clamp down on his wrists harder then he’s probably aware of, in the bunching of Sam’s thigh muscles as he gets ready to make his move. He’d been wondering how long it would take Sam to break.

“Fucking tease,” Sam growls, then flips them with a hip thrust and roll that ends with Dean flat on his back, arm stretched out over his head, and thighs clamped against Sam’s hips. Dean can’t hold back a grin as Sam looms over him, dark promises in his eyes. His grin slides into a moan as Sam grinds down onto him. He feels Sam’s breath hot against his cheek. 

“You like playing games?” Sam purrs into his ear. He bites at Dean’s earlobe, his soft breath gliding across Dean’s skin. Dean shudders. Sam rocks his hips hard and purposefully against Dean’s cock as he bites down on the edge of Dean’s jaw, drags his tongue across the stubble there. “We’re gonna play one called let’s see how long it takes until you’re crying and begging me to fuck you, begging me to let you come.”

Dean’s eyes roll back in his head and that game is almost over before it has a chance to start. Sam chuckles evilly (in Dean’s opinion) at the way his brother’s body convulses. “Not yet, Dean,” he says, lifting away from Dean’s body. “Simon didn’t say so.”

“Control freak,” Dean pants out.

Sam stretches Dean’s arms up until his fingers brush the headboard. “You fucking love it,” he says. 

Dean doesn’t bother denying it. “Fuck yeah,” he groans, both in answer to the accusation and in response to the way Sam is wrapping Dean’s fingers around the slats in the headboard.

“Don’t let go,” Sam warns as he slithers down Dean’s body. “Let go, and I stop.” But it’s not a threat. It’s a vow, a promise that, if Dean lets him, but only if Dean lets him, Sam will take total responsibility for Dean, for Dean’s pleasure. It’s his gift to Dean.

Dean would let Sam tie him up, let Sam do anything to him. They both know it. But this way, with Dean giving up control of his body to Sam completely voluntarily, Sam is sure Dean wants this as much as he does, this way he knows that they are in this thing together. It’s Dean’s gift to Sam.

Sam’s hands are so big and warm. He slides them all over Dean’s skin, sweeping up from thigh to nipples and back down again. His hair is like silk, and Dean tightens his fingers on the headboard in order to keep himself from grabbing handfuls of it. Sam places a gentle kiss to the inside of Dean’s thigh. Then a sharp nip, before he licks up the side of Dean’s cock. Dean bites back a whimper, but the jerk of his cock and the abortive hip thrusts gives him away. Sam chuckles and licks around the head with just the tip of his tongue.

 _Jesus fucking Christ._ They’ve barely started and Dean is already so close to begging for it. He exhales heavily through his nose, chest heaving.

Sam looks up at him, eyes black with lust. His fingers clench around Dean’s hips, and Dean knows he’s going to have bruises there. The thought is almost unbearably erotic. He wishes he could have them tattooed into his skin. He strains up to see Sam’s body stretched out between his legs. He licks his lips, raw and swollen from his time spent cataloging Sam’s scars with his mouth.

“Shit,” Sam curses, reverently, eyes locked onto Dean’s mouth. 

The feel of Sam’s hot breath on his skin makes Dean’s cock jump, a pearl of precome beading at the top. Sam stretches out his tongue to taste it, and Dean has to close his eyes, head falling back down to the pillow with a thump.

 _Is this what it’s like when you have sex with someone you love?_ Dean wonders. Because if it is, he doesn’t know how people survive it. He feels like he’s going to fly off into space. Sam’s mouth closes over the top of his cock and Dean shudders. He can feel Sammy smile around him. It’s intimate in a way he’s never even come close to before. Sam knows everything about it. There’s no place to hide. 

Not that he wants to.

Sam slides his mouth slowly up and down Dean’s cock. Hands pressing on Dean’s hips, he kneels between Dean’s legs and just glides up and down, perfect pressure, perfect heat, in no rush, like he could do this all night. Pleasure rolls through Dean with the rhythm of Sam’s mouth, and his hips roll up and up against Sam’s hands, not chasing orgasm, just moving with the tide of Sam and love and ecstasy flooding him.

Dean yells when Sam pulls off, hands clenching around the headboard. “Sam!” He’s panting, teetering on the edge of orgasm. He lifts his head back up to check on Sam.

Sam’s panting as hard as he is, head resting on Dean’s thigh, eyes closed as his hand clench and unclench around Dean’s hips. 

“Sammy?” Dean asks, a little concerned. Sam’s face is screwed up like he’s in pain. “You okay?” Dean lets go of bed, reaching down to rest his hand on Sam’s head. 

Sam pushes into the touch, rubbing his head against Dean’s palm, kissing wherever he can reach. “Yeah. Yeah.” His voice is shaky. “It’s just...just...”

Dean winds his fingers through Sam’s hair and tugs gently. Sam hisses at the sensation. “Yeah,” Dean echoes.

Sam pushes up onto his knees and leans over Dean, trapping him in the cage of his body. He bends down, resting his forehead against Dean’s, hair curtaining Dean’s face. “It’s just, I fucking love you so much. And it’s never...I never...” He stops, inhaling with a shudder as Dean’s hands caress his body from shoulders to ankles, following the curve of his body.

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean repeats, tilting his head up to capture Sam’s beautiful mouth. “Me, too. Never like this. No one.” He gets one hand around the back of Sam’s neck, pulling him down and kissing long and deep, the urgency building back up as Sam opens for him. Sam sinks down onto him, pressing them together chest to groin and Dean pulls off with a moan. “God, baby boy, loved you for forever.”

Sam actually whines at that, and Dean would laugh but Sam’s cock is pressing against his, sliding through the slickness between them, and it feels so incredible Dean can barely think. He could come just like this, he knows. But it’s not enough. He needs Sam inside him. Needs to finally get Sam inside his skin, tucked up near his heart when Dean can protect him. And if he’s completely honest, he’s dying to feel Sam’s porn-worthy cock pounding into him. He’d also like to know where Sam got his mad gay-sex skills from, but he won’t be throwing any stones, that’s for sure. 

With a groan, he yanks Sam’s mouth away from the dirty and probably illegal things it’s been doing to Dean’s neck. “Christ, Sam.” He keeps his hand in Sam’s hair and pulls back, forcing Sam to look him in the eye. Sam’s expression is wild, thin rings of hazel around huge dark pupils. “Are you going to fuck me, or what?”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to groan. Groan and roll off of Dean. Dean watches as he walks purposefully over to his duffle bag. He’s allowed to do that now, and damn, Sam looks good. He should probably feel guilty, feel ashamed, but he doesn’t. From the triumphant aha! and the glint in Sam’s eyes when he brandish the lube he’s found in the bottom on his bad, Dean figures guilt is not high up on the list of things Sam is feeling either.

Sam stalks over to the bed, hips rolling, hand sliding up and down his thick, hard cock, and eyes dark and intent on Dean. He’s sex on legs and he knows it. 

Two can play that game. Dean reaches back over his head and grabs the slat of the headboard again. He pulls his knees up, feet flat on the bed, and fans out his thighs. “How do you want me?” he asks with a smirk.

Sam stops at the foot of the bed, and just stands there, staring at Dean. 

He doesn’t say anything, just stares, jaw dropped open slightly, eyes dark with lust. Dean feels the heat building in him, the flush on his cheeks spreading down his neck and chest. But he’s not embarrassed. Not at all. He spreads his legs wider, tilting his hips up, biting his lower lip. He’s shameless. He’s trusted Sam with his life and his soul, now he trusts him with his heart and with his desires. He’d do anything for Sam, ask anything of him without fear. “Anything you want, baby boy. However you want me.”

Sam’s hand tightens around his dick, and Dean can see the clear fluid dripping from the tip to drip down Sam’s fingers. “Jesus, Dean,” Sam whispers, voice raspy. “Like that, just like that.” He climbs onto to the bed, back between Dean’s legs, just where Dean thinks Sam should stay for the next century. He puts a hand on Dean’s knees and pushes them gently even further apart until Dean can feel the burn in his groin muscles. It’s fucking perfect. 

Sam bites his lips, and his eyebrows draw together like he’s solving the problems of the universe, as he fumbles the cap on the lube and squirts out way too much onto his hands.

Dean huffs a laugh that turns into a grunt when Sam quirks an eyebrow and slides one finger into Dean without warning. “Still funny?” he asks, fucking Dean slowly.

“C’mon, Sam. Don’t be a tease.” Dean feels like he’s been hard for hours. It’s been awesome, but now he’d just like Sam to pound him into the mattress and bring on the mind-blowing orgasm he can feel building in his spine and the back of his throat. Sam seems to be on the same page, and, faster than Dean thought possible, he’s feeling the delicious burn and stretch as Sam slips a third finger in. They both groan as Sam twists around inside Dean, fingers dragging across that perfect spot inside Dean that has him seeing stars.

Sam’s got one arm wrapped around Dean’s knee, and the other braced against the bed. _Shameless,_ Dean thinks again, as he just drives his hips up and down, fucking himself on Sam’s hand. There’s sweat sliding down his temples, pooling in his collarbones, and shining all over Sam’s golden skin. He clenches around the fingers inside him, trying to get more, and Sam moans like he’s dying.

“Fuck, Dean. Fucking, feel so good.” He moans, voice broken and wrecked. “Gonna come just from this.”

Dean thrashes his head back and forth, sweat sliding down his temples, gathering in his collarbones. Sam’s golden skin is glistening. “Fuck me, Sammy. C’mon. God. Do it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam repeats mindlessly, almost to himself as he scrambles to his knees. With shaky hands, he lines himself up and pushes slowly but inexorably into Dean.

Dean breathes heavily through his nose, eyes rolling up into his head at the feeling of Sam just driving into him, forcing his way deep inside Dean. Right where he belongs. 

Sam stops, resting on trembling arms, head hanging down between his shoulders. “Okay?” he asks, breathless.

Dean can only nod, afraid to move, afraid he’ll shatter.

Sam lifts his head up like it weighs a million pounds. “Yeah?” He doesn’t sound convinced.

Dean shifts his hips, trying to get Sam deeper. “Fuck yeah, Sammy. Now move. Please, for the love of god.”

Sam barks a laugh. “Bossy,” he huffs out. “Okay, fine then.”

Dean’s not sure he trusts how that sounds, so he tightens his grip on the headboard, just in case. Sure enough, Sam sits back on his haunches, hooks his arms under Dean’s knees, and uses his freakish strength to drag Dean’s legs higher up his thighs. 

Dean yells loud enough to get them kicked out as the move impales him on Sam’s cock. Then Sam starts moving, hard and fast, driving the air out of Dean’s lungs and the brain cells out of Dean’s skull.

Sam is stretching him out, filling him perfectly, and punching against his prostate every other thrust. Even with his arms braced, Dean’s head knocks against the headboard as Sam fucks him. His groins muscles are screaming with the stretch, his neck is bent so that oxygen is a scarce resource. It’s fucking heaven. He closes his eyes against the enormity of the feeling.

Sam’s cursing steadily under his breath, “Not gonna last,” he groans.

Dean dares to take a look. Past the view of his own cock jutting rock hard and red from his between his legs, dripping a pool of hot liquid onto his stomach, he sees Sam, biceps bulging, and the corded muscles of his neck and shoulders straining. “God, Dean,” Sam exhales with something like awe as their eyes lock.

“Sam,” Dean cries as he comes helplessly, white hot sparks flashing down his spine as come pulses out of him in time with Sam’s thrusts. His body arcs, lifting him up until only his shoulders and head are on the bed. One hand flies off the headboard, flailing towards Sam. Sam grabs onto it as Dean’s orgasm swells until Dean thinks he could die from it.

Sam slams into Dean one last time, and comes with a quiet ‘oh’ and a full body shudder before his muscles lock up. Dean can feel him thicken and pulse inside of him, and as Sam’s fingers dig into his legs, Dean feels the pleasure crest again and he shouts out as a second orgasm follows the first.

They stay locked like that for long seconds, Sam clutching Dean’s leg to him, Dean’s thighs wrapped around Sam’s waist, until their hearts stop pounding so hard and their breath slows a bit. Then Dean drops his legs with a moan. Sam pulls out and Dean hisses as the sensation. 

Sam drops heavily to the bed, twisting as he does to land mostly on Dean’s side. It’s still enough to force the breath out of Dean’s lungs.

Dean drags his arm around Sam. “Holy shit,” he pants out.

Sam laughs an agreement.

“I mean,” Dean pats Sam weakly on the back. “Good job, Sammy.” He gives Sam a shaky thumbs up and a cheesy but sincerely smile. “A-fucking-plus, college boy.”

Sam laughs again, and leans up to kiss Dean on the mouth. They trade sloppy kisses, all wet lips and slippery tongues, until Sam drops back down onto the bed.

“Love you,” Sam murmurs, half asleep already. They’ll clean up later. They may regret it, but right now neither one of them wants to budge.

Dean pulls Sam into him and kisses the top of his head. “Love you, too, little brother,” he says. He lays his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes with a sigh. 

Of course they’d ended up here. Where else would either of them want to be? Who cares what people would think? Almost nobody knows who they are. And society as a whole can go scratch. The world owes them this and Dean is going to take it. Sam is his, he is Sam’s, and that’s all there is to it. “Fuck ‘em,” Dean says as sleep overtakes him.

“Yeah,” Sam mumbles, pressing even more tightly into Dean. “Fuck ‘em all.”

They fall asleep curled around each other. Just where they were mean to be. Home.


End file.
